The Brother You Deserve
by Laerkstrein
Summary: Of course Thor would think the best of him, even after all the hell he'd wrought. The big brother, trying to right all the wrongs of his past, protect the one he had spent all his time outdoing, damaging. But Odin and Frigga had had their fair share of that as well. Lies, and all that. Post-Avengers. Pre-"Like Pulling Teeth."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own The Avengers, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

**The Brother You Deserve**

**A/N: **Post-_Avengers;_ pre-"Like Pulling Teeth."

* * *

Little light filtered through the grate as he shifted, even with the sun so high up in the sky. Morning. The whole of the night had been full of nothing but the incessant sound of the chains scraping against the floor with even the slightest movement, keeping him wide awake and grating on his last nerve. It wouldn't matter if Loki decided he'd had enough, for he would still be trapped here, watched by the leering eye of the guard, kept in check by the magicked cuffs that bound him. He hated to admit it, but Odin seemed to have learned a thing or two while he'd been away, wreaking naught but havoc.

Loki had expected the supposed judgment to go smoothly, his battered appearance and sharp eyes enough to do the talking for him, show the Allfather that, even bound, he held the power; prove that his mother would come swiftly to the rescue and curb her husband's rage, convince him to spare their once-called son. That idea had been dashed almost instantly, though she had certainly pleaded, the High One's gaze resolute and unyielding, as though he'd spent all these months preparing for that moment. To the dungeons Odin had sent him, left him for days on end as he likely debated on an appropriate punishment.

The old man had grown quite a decent bit of backbone.

He felt the bile in his gut churn, growling quietly to himself as those heavy footsteps drew near, the room growing a bit warmer as Thor, with all his righteousness, wrapped his fingers around the bars.

"Did you sleep well?"

Without so much as looking at him, Loki scowled at the floor as best he could, the damned muzzle keeping silver tongue trapped behind clenched teeth. As if he could sleep in a place like this, surrounded by the smell of rust and even grease and forced to listen to the endless rattling of the chain each and every time he so much as moved a finger. He swallowed, imagining that, were he to stare at the wall long enough, Thor would get the idea and leave. Hopefully, far sooner than his mother, with all her useless pity, had.

He was met with the sound of the door squeaking on its hinges, the guard having stepped aside to allow allow the thunder god entry. Loki leaned back against the wall and rolled his eyes. The fool didn't know when to give up.

They'd won, hadn't they? The Avengers? Thwarted his plans and crushed his ambition just as he had crushed their pathetic little city. Loki flinched as Thor reached for him, pressing his back further into the wall as though, with a bit of added effort, he could slip right through with magic, find the back of his head heated by the rays of the day. It irritated him that such a thing was but a pipe dream at the moment.

As Thor's hand drew closer, Loki moved to the side, settling bitterly in the corner as he felt that headache creep through his skull again. He had to remind himself constantly not to frown for too long, as the Iron Man, following his request for the offered bit of liquor, had given him a solid smack right between the eyes. And with the damned suit on, no less. Something must have bruised deep beneath his skin, as that subtle pain hadn't yet found the mercy with which to subside.

Loki cringed, feeling that strong hand reach behind his head and snap open the lock, dragging the heated metal across his skin before tossing it to the floor.

"It is not too late, Brother," Thor said, his eyes pleading. "There is still time with which to change Father's mind. Denounce the poison in your heart, take responsibility for your actions. There is still hope for you."

Yes, Thor would know all about hope, wouldn't he? Left on Midgard to suffer for less than a fortnight, having found a supposed and unending love in the arms of some fragile and naïve mortal woman. He'd likely felt the sting of isolation for the whole of a day before the humans had taken quite a liking to him, treated Thor as friend rather than the alien brute Asgard knew him to be. For Thor, it seemed, capturing and turning hearts was as easy as batting an eye at an eager damsel. Just once, and they would all come crawling to him.

Loki snorted, kept his mouth shut and took to gnawing on the inside of his cheek, determined not to give the Son of Odin any satisfaction. It was like that Thor had worried for him, sat up late into the night and wondered just what would befall him, wracking his near empty head for something, anything, to say, to find means with which to change Loki's heart, take pride in the fact that he had saved his once-called brother from the trembling hand of a desperate old man. It was laughable, and Loki would not be made part of the joke.

It wasn't until the trickster god tasted blood that he opened his mouth and spat, glowering darkly up at Thor as it fell upon the toe of his boot. Now that was satisfying. Not the pitiful circus called redemption that the thunderer played at.

"Why must you insist on being stubborn?!" Thor howled, shaking him by the collar, and Loki realized that, being trapped in this hellhole for so long had not only served to make him stiff, but had kept him in these clothes far too long. A disgusting thought, knowing that he'd been sitting in not only the filth of the dungeon, but that which he'd picked up on Midgard. "Why must you continue to play the fool?!"

At that, Loki raised his brows. That was far more bothersome than being slapped in the face.

"Oh, _shut up,_" he finally snapped, voice quiet and hoarse. "You're the fool, running about trying to play _savior._" Loki sneered, gave that last word bite. "Who do you think you are? Who asked you to come and save me?"

"No one," came the quiet reply, and Thor began tugging at a length of chain, as if contemplating whether or not to break it in two. "You are my brother." Loki scowled at that. The chain hit the floor again. "My younger brother. And it is my duty to protect you from the monsters."

Had the room been wider, devoid of all this depressing scenery, Loki would have hissed, turned his back on Thor and taken to pacing until dizziness had settled in and forced him to steady himself against the back of a chair. What if, he had mind to say, the monsters were more than skin deep? What if they could not be seen in their entirety, only heard, only acknowledged in the darkness of the night, in the uncertainty of a man's own raging skull? The prince of lies swallowed and said nothing. Thor was nothing short of an idiot, but he was not so foolish as to fail to understand how Loki would twist his words. Their years together had taught the thunder god that much.

Thor shook him again, the chains clattering against one another and driving Loki mad.

"Do not think such things," he said firmly, eyes appearing deep as the sea. Thor knew those thoughts of his, at least. "You're not. You're _not._"

Of course Thor would think the best of him, even after all the hell he'd wrought. The big brother, trying to right all the wrongs of his past, protect the one he had spent all his time outdoing, damaging. Of course, Odin and Frigga had had their fair share of that as well. Lies, and all that.

Loki growled, wishing he could deter Thor by throwing daggers at his feet the way he'd used to. When he did, Thor would often walk away looking defeated, like some dumb puppy that had been kicked in the side.

"Is it really so difficult for you to understand?!" he shouted, the rattling chain egging him on. "I never wanted your help! I never wanted you to protect me! Do you understand?! I never wanted you to be–"

_"I know!" _Thor roared back, and shoved him into the wall. "I know... I have known every day since Father cast me out that you didn't want me to be your brother! I just..." He swallowed, eyes glazed over. "I didn't want to believe it."

Loki shook his head, appalled. _Pathetic._

"Is that all?" the trickster said, having had quite enough of this charade. "Is that what you came to tell me? That I'm _not _a monster?" He laughed quietly. "Did you really think that a few pretty words would break me? That you could spout your sentiments until I fell into your arms and conceded?"

Thor didn't reply.

"Well, now you know better." Loki sat down, kicked at the muzzle that lay on the floor. "Now, get out. And, if you want to do me a favor so badly, take that damn thing with you."

He could see the thunder god tremble as he held his breath, searched his empty head for something to say, something to combat that which had clearly been the end of the conversation. It took some time, but not ten minutes later, Thor shook his head in defeat, snatched the muzzle up off the floor and motioned to the guard to open the door. Loki smiled with satisfaction even as his brother turned to look back over his shoulder.

"What you say matters little to me." No surprise there. "You _are _my brother, and I will do what I can with Father." Thor's eyes were swimming, somewhat brightened with hope, even as he stared at the ground. "And, while I may not be the brother you need, the brother you want... I'm the brother you so deserve."

The prince of lies said nothing, made no move until the door had shut again and Thor's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor again.

Loki grimaced, bit his lip and laid the sole of a boot down upon the chains so as to keep them quiet as he struggled, spat on the cuffs and, after several minutes of working, managed to get one of his hands free. He smiled and rubbed his wrist, imagining the look of shock upon Odin's face when he realized what would soon be past.

He would get out of this pit, take what pride he could from the Allfather and run. And, when the time came for him to return to Asgard, he would have an army, one that would have no means with which to turn upon him.

After all, he wasn't called the God of Mischief for nothing.

* * *

I love forgetting about shit on my computer until I check my folders a week later. Yeah. Great system I've got going.


End file.
